


careless whisper // i want to know what love is

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: 80's Music, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Because I happen to know about London more than any other potential 80s setting, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, London, Love Confessions, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Songfic, very lightly implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22067887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The year is 1984. Two songs shift the perspectives of two young people on their friendship--a friendship which they realise may truly be something else altogether.Ikesoren 80s AU/songfic written as a birthday gift for my dear friend Shine.
Relationships: Ike/Senerio | Soren
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	careless whisper // i want to know what love is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HerAwesomeShinyness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerAwesomeShinyness/gifts).



> For optimal reading experience, listen to each song with the scene it goes with. Originally I had planned to write something else entirely, but this idea came to me and I couldn't let it go; I hope you love it!

Ike didn’t like bars. 

He didn’t particularly like drinking, which probably made a contribution--not that he was against having a couple of beers now and then; it was just that he didn’t trust himself to make the walk home from Soho after a few pints when his alcohol tolerance was the way that it was. He’d survived the last criminal encounter he’d run into, but it wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat. 

The music was good, though, and he didn’t want to leave Mist unsupervised. She’d been tempted from the humble and familiar comfort of their Camden home by the promise of a live musician that had apparently failed to show, so now they stood next to each other at the bar, listening to the sound of the hot summer releases playing over the speakers. She had barely touched her drink. 

“Do you want to head back?” He asked. 

She sighed and shook her head. “We’ve come this far.”

He looked down at his own drink, something that was half-whiskey and half mystery soft drink, and that he wasn’t sure that he actually wanted to be drinking. Still, he brought it to his lips and winced at the strange taste. It probably wouldn’t be worth drinking the rest; unfortunately, it had cost him enough that it would also not be worth not drinking the rest. 

The song that had just been playing faded out, and the next one faded in with a few bars of saxophone, ringing out around the darkened establishment. 

His eyes drifted over to a fire door at the side of the building, open so that the evening breeze could cut through the smothering air of the bar. He could see rats picking at the bags of rubbish between the bins, and he could see the fading glow of the sunset. They were at the peak of the summer, and it was always hotter than he remembered the year before. 

_Time can never mend the careless whispers of a good friend._

He shut his eyes for a moment, leaning back against the counter. The song felt the same way the laziness of the day did. All warm and drowsy and just slightly mournful.

_There’s no comfort in the truth, pain is all that you’ll find._

The bliss of the moment was ruined by the sound of crashing from the street. He glanced over to the door, and saw a figured silhouetted by the fading daylight, leaning against the side of a bin. He watched as they tried to push themselves up, before falling back against their support. “What the—”

“Ike!” Mist tugged at the side of his shirt. “Those other two--I think they—”

He shifted so that he was seeing things from her angle. She was right; there were two others in the alley, one brandishing a broken bottle like a club. Ignoring her protests, he moved so that he was close enough to the door to see what was going on.

The figure--someone who looked to be about his own age, with long dark hair, dressed in a loose white blouse and cropped jeans--forced themselves to stand up straight. Ike met his eyes, then forced himself to restrain from saying his name. 

“You ever gonna realise that it’s pointless to run?” One of the assailants took a step towards Soren. They didn’t respond. Ike frowned, wrapping his fingers around the handle of a mop someone had left next to the door. “God, how pathetic. We’d be doing you a favour—”

Ike stepped through the door and swung the end of his makeshift weapon at the guy speaking. 

“What the—”

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked them. 

“None of your business, kid.”

“Then I’ll make it my business if you don’t get out of here now.”

“You’re really gonna waste your energy looking out for someone like _him._ ” The way that they said it just made him more certain of his choice. 

“Yeah, I am.”

“Ike!” Mist was behind them now, too, watching. 

The taller guy glanced over to her, then tutted. “Well, wouldn’t want to cause a scene in front of a lady, would we?” He turned and left. 

Soren picked himself up, brushing the dust from his shirt. He seemed alright, aside from a nasty red mark along his cheekbone, as sharp as the rest of his features. Ike grit his teeth.

“Thank you,” Soren said. 

“You should come inside, you’re bleeding.” Mist reached out for a tear in his shirt, but he jerked back from her hand. Still, he took the advice, stepping across the threshold. 

“How did you manage to get yourself into that?”

Soren probed the mark on his face. “This is Soho. You know how it is.”

_Though it’s easy to pretend, I know you’re not a fool._

Ike nodded. He knew. It was hard not to. “I think maybe we should all head home.”

Soren glanced around the room. “Looks like your plans were dashed, anyway.” Ike was reminded of the conversation they had held with him before they left, in which he had warned them of as much. The frustrating thing about Soren was that he tended to be right. But even if he was right, the evening hadn’t been a waste. A tuesday night with no one else around at one of the less seedy places in the district didn’t make for an unpleasant experience, even if he didn't tend to like bars. And, though the tension never quite left his friend, when he saw Soren adjust to this new environment, he wondered what it would be like to ask him for a dance.

He downed the last of his drink. It definitely hadn’t been worth the money. “Let’s go.”

_There’s no comfort in the truth, pain is all you’ll find._

The song faded into the distance as they stepped out into the muggy sunset air, its sad softness melting away into the night and the sound of life on the street.

* * *

Ike ‘sat’ back against the floor, legs bent over the side of the bed, eyes closed, listening to the sound of the shitty radio that had to be propped up on a stack of books balanced on the edge of the windowsill to have any chance of getting a signal. And it still wasn’t good. 

Soren tolerated it. 

Mostly because as long as the radio played, Ike would probably stay in his room. After all, it didn’t get any signal anywhere else. Except the kitchen, and the living room, and the garden, and just at the end of the hallway, if you positioned it between a potted plant and the wall just right and you were willing to endure the people coming and going as you listened. 

Soren put another line through his notes. The formula wasn’t _wrong,_ he just got the sense that it could be more efficient. 

_I better read between the lines, in case I need it when I’m older._

Ike shifted, sitting up straight.

“Soren?”

He glanced up from his work. Ike was looking at him oddly, like he’d just noticed something. Generally, Soren didn’t waste his time musing at whether his feelings were reciprocated. But. 

_Through the clouds, I see love shine._

He recognised the song. One that had been playing on radios everywhere he went since November. He’d made the mistake of paying attention to the lyrics once, and then realised that it, perhaps, was slightly too applicable to his own experience to be comfortable to listen to. 

“What?”

“Thank you.”

 _Thank you?_ “Why?”

Ike picked himself up and sat next to him on the bed, leaning back against the wall. “For letting me hideaway here.” _Ah._ The real reason for why he spent the afternoons in Soren’s room, letting time slip away. No one ever bothered them. “And for being here, too.”

_In my life, there’s been heartache and pain._

“I should thank _you_ for that,” he said. 

“No.” Ike shook his head, then turned to meet his eyes. “You’re smart, and you understand things in a way that no one else does.” Soren set his pen down. “You’re honest and you don’t pretend that everything is okay when it isn’t. And I know that you hate some things about yourself, but I don’t know anyone else like you.”

“Most of those things usually get me in trouble.”

“I don’t care,” he said, and then softly, as if the words he murmured were sacred. “I love you.”

_I wanna know what love is._

_I want you to show me._

_I wanna feel what love is._

_I know you can show me._

“Perfect timing,” Soren said. He rarely ever saw Ike blush, but when he realised what he meant his cheeks tinted red. 

“That wasn’t intentional,” he buried his head in his hands.

“Of course not.”

Ike elbowed him in the shoulder. Gently. “I meant it. That I love you.” 

Soren felt the smile on his face before he had any chance to consciously input whether he wanted it or not. He reached out, uncertain, and rest a hand against Ike’s shoulder. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Again, happy birthday to my dearest friend of all. I hope you have a good one!


End file.
